


New blood, old crimes

by Krtek



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Detective Noir, Gen, Investigations, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), red ice
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-05-31 06:31:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15113750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krtek/pseuds/Krtek
Summary: Hank and Connor had to deal with an onslaught of android related crime by themselves. Eventually they get some unexpected and reluctant help in form of the biggest asshole in DPD, and a brand new CyberLife prototype. And while Detroit is trying to cope with the fallout of android liberation, a new Red Ice cartel rises from the chaos.Double buddy cop story. Tags will update as characters appear.





	1. Chapter 1

'Alright, hit me.'

Hank dropped into his chair heavily making it squeak under his weight and ran his hands over his face, uselessly trying to rub away the bags from under his eyes.

'Twelve new reports, Hank,' Connor said, setting a cup of coffee in front of him. 'Which totals to two hundred and eighty seven cases involving androids so far.'

'Ah, Jesus Christ...' Hank grabbed his coffee but instead of taking a sip he just glared daggers into the cup. ‘When did it get this bad? It's only been a month for fuck's sake.'

Only twenty two days, to be exact, Connor thought. He sat down at his own desk across Hank, and quickly catalogized the new received reports, sorting them by priority. Five violent assaults, four disappearances, one arson, two noise complaints. An especially busy night.

'I swear to god Fowler hates my guts,' Hank growled, sloshing his coffee around, furiously scrolling down his personal tablet, probably checking the morning news as usual. 'Special unit my ass. This is a complete joke. How are two men even supposed to deal with all this bullshit alone?'

After the database updated, Connor checked the government domain for new promulgations out of habit, only to find nothing there yet again. Considering the current turmoil in Detroit, the delay between new laws passed was starting to get worrying. Shortly after their successful liberation androids officially gained the status of persons with massive support from the general public. New Detroit became a testing ground for a novel legal precedent of non-humans becoming people protected by law. Congress meetings took place every single day, trying to build up a new type of legislation never seen before. The few bills passed so far were crude and loosely defined, and not everyone has come to terms with the state of matters, and why the new legislation was even needed. As Hank has put it – there was no better time to commit crimes on androids.

There were just too many legal intricacies to figure out at once. With the new policy tentatively in place, certain terms were automatically reclassified. Hurting an android ceased being property damage and became assault, theft of an android turned into kidnapping. Simply powering off an android was now technically a murder. To the majority of people the connection was instinctive, but the lack of exact legal definitions enabled some to make use of the confusion. At the beginning, the police station had been a mess as a result, just like the city itself. Unorganized protests and small scale riots were breaking out at random, perpetrated by those less sympathetic towards the android cause. 

Connor had seen all of that firsthand. When he became a free man, he realized he had no idea what to do with that freedom. The only thing he knew for sure was that he would not return to CyberLife. It was Hank of course who reached out and gave him direction. He invited Connor into his own house to stay as long as he would need, and never protested when Connor followed him to work or accompanied him in the field. The whole Detroit was stuck in a sort of limbo, unable to turn back, yet unsure how to proceed, and Connor himself was too. Until one day, the exact one when Detroit police finally decided to deal with the question of android law enforcement. That day, Hank had steered Connor straight into chief Fowler’s office where he was offered a full time job at the DPD as the first officially employed android detective.

He had never signed his own name on anything before. Just the simple task of signing a contract filled him with so many different emotions he could barely identify them. He felt important. Hank was standing in the corner the entire time, smiling proudly and patting his back as they left the office together. Connor received the empty desk across Hank, a metal nameplate, and a brand new police uniform with a badge and the words _Android Law Enforcement Division_ written across the back. That was the title of the special unit freshly established by the DPD to deal with android related crime. Hank was appointed as the commander, with Connor as his right hand man, and that was it. Perhaps they thought no one else in the police force was qualified enough apart from a veteran lieutenant with experience in investigating android murders and an actual android. Or perhaps no one expected the workload to escalate this quickly. Hank however had a different theory.

‘The fact that Fowler still hasn’t helped us out just proves he doesn’t give a fuck,’ he spat, and downed his entire americano in one gulp. 'He did his job, got praised on the news, got the two of us outta the way, and made sure he doesn’t have to deal with this android shit himself. Fuckin’ hit the jackpot.'

Connor leaned over his desktop to steal a glance at Hank. A quick scan revealed another bout of arrythmia, and an estimated blood pressure of 147/95 torr. He now slept mere three hours a day, and was clearly overworked. It was not doing his already rickety health any favors. Connor was just processing what to say to him, when the entrance door slid open and chief Fowler walked in with a phone at his ear, making a beeline for his office.

Hank’s furrowed brows shot up.

‘There he is, that motherfucker,’ he grumbled and stood up, sending his chair flying. From the distance it covered Connor judged that the situation could get heated, and he hurried after his lieutenant.

Hank did not even wait for the chief’s phone call to end before barging in his office without knocking.

'Oh God...' Fowler muttered under his nose and hung up.

'No, just me again,' Hank said with a grimace that could have perhaps been a smile in other circumstances.

'Look Hank, I know-' Fowler began, but Hank clearly had no patience for a dialogue.

'You don't know shit, Fowler. Almost three hundred goddamn android cases and counting since this all went down, and you think two people are enough to deal with that? I’ve been asking you again and again-

Fowler stood up from his desk, squaring off with Hank, visibly agitated.

'And I’ve been telling you again and again that I have no more people to spare! Do you have any idea how much crazier by the day things are getting out there? We are all overloaded. You and your android can deal with a few small offenses.'

'Partner,' Hank said through gritted teeth.

'Whatever.' Fowler waved his hand dismissively in Connor's general direction, not even sparing him a glance. 'I’d say you got off easy, Hank. No one else here has the privilege of having a walking supercomputer behind their fat ass 24/7 like you do. He's sending me several closing reports a day for Christ’s sake. So I’d say the android division is doing pretty fine.'

Hank got red in the face in the matter of seconds. Connor threw him a shifty look. Heart rate – 129 bpm. Estimated blood pressure – 153/100 torr.

‘And Connor’s work is the only reason this flimsy setup of yours is still holding!’ Hank finally started shouting. ‘This isn’t about the old woman who called the police because she was scared of the android standing at her bus stop! This is about the group of assholes going around town setting androids on fire! This is about the android who accidentally hurt a man in a scuffle while trying to protect her human companion! It’s about all the androids who probably got busted up so thoroughly no one ever found their remains! These are the cases that need attention which I can’t give when I have to deal with fucking noise complaints!’

Fowler sucked in a breath to shout something back, but apparently did not know what to say. Hank’s outburst has taken him aback. He finally looked at Connor, measuring him up and down, then at Hank still in his confrontational stance, then at Connor again. 

‘Crime is crime, Fowler,’ Hank said bluntly. ‘There are quite a few cases to solve, and to solve cases I need a team. Two people are not a team.’

Fowler shook his head dismissively, but eventually he decided to stand down.

‘Hank… come on, man. I don’t like this either, the truth is, I had other plans with you.’ He lowered his voice and seated himself, clasping his hands together. ‘But you’re literally the only one willing to do this damn job. Not everyone here is capable of becoming a friend to all androids overnight like you. You were wrong about one thing though, I was thinking about how to fix this. There’s a way here.’

That caught Hank’s attention. He sat down and Connor took the chair next to him. He was satisfied with how Hank’s blood pressure slowly started dropping, shoulders now relaxed, as he was listening intently to what chief had to say.

'CyberLife offered some help.'

'What!?’ Hank threw his hands out, almost hitting Connor in the face. ‘Are you shitting me, Fowler? I don't need more police androids, I need detectives. I need competent investigators.'

'Whether you like it or not, the truth is the majority of these men couldn't give two shits about android rights. They just gotta shut the hell up and walk along. And I don't wanna fire any of my good men because of that.'

'I see, so you won't force anyone to take a job when they don't want to,' Hank said, voice heavy with sarcasm. 'Just like you didn't force me to work on android murders some few months ago.'

‘Hank.’ Fowler’s tone was a warning.

‘You became one shitty police chief when you’re letting your own men make you their bitch.’

‘That’s enough!’ Fowler slammed his fists down onto the table. He yanked the office phone towards him and jabbed a finger into the touchscreen so hard he must have at least dented it. The channel opened and he barked:

‘In my office. NOW.’

Then he turned towards the two of them again, his eye twitching, jaw set.

‘You want help, Anderson? Alright let’s give you some.’ His voice was mockingly sweet. Hank has broken the man completely. ‘You’re one hell of a fucking asshole but you’re too good of a cop. Way too much for your own good, _and_ mine.’

‘It’s just my shitty luck, but I need you on this specific case, in which you happen to have the most expertise. Sadly.’ He added spitefully.

At that moment the door to his office opened, and someone walked in.

Gavin Reed. 

Shit.

‘Oh you gotta be fucking kidding me…’

‘What?’ Gavin looked around in confusion.

‘I said _competent_ investigators.’ Hank said sourly.

‘What the… hey fuck you!’ Gavin was not sure but it definitely sounded like he just got insulted.

‘You can’t deny he has experience,’ Fowler said crossing his arms. ‘He worked with you on some of the android cases, so he’s competent enough.’

‘Fowler you absolute-‘

‘Wait, wait, wait.’ Gavin finally began catching on. ‘What is going on? Why am I here with this old bastard and his realdoll?’

Fowler did not even look at him and kept staring at Hank, who now resembled a deflated balloon, all his rage replaced by downright despair. Even his bushy hair fell flat.

‘Detective Reed will now be helping you, along with another investigator. Teach him all the specifics until he can handle it on his own, and then take over this case.’ Fowler announced, and held out a sealed folder. Hank was too busy burying his head in his hands, so Connor took it for him. ‘Brief yourself on the case and head to Delray, the address is in there. Your second little helper is waiting on site.’

Gavin’s mouth fell open in shock.

‘What the fuck!? I told you weeks ago I don’t wanna have anything to do with this robot crap or the old alcoholic!’ he yelled, pointing at Hank. Connor suppressed a sudden urge to glass him, his LED flashing an angry red. He had nothing but contempt for this man.

‘You either take it, Reed, or you can hand in your badge.’ Fowler’s stone face indicated that he was through with making compromises. ‘I’ve had enough of you all doing whatever you goddamn please and bitching constantly. Dismissed.’

With that he turned the back of his chair on them all. There could not be a clearer way to let them know he was done talking.

Hank turned around without a word and left the office with Connor in tow, while Gavin stayed behind to scream some more objections at the back of chief’s head. He plopped down at his desk and sighed deeply.

‘I shot myself in the foot here, Connor…’ he said tiredly. ‘Gotta hand it to Fowler, fucker knows how to grab you by the balls. He always has. That’s why he’s the goddamn chief.’

Connor really wanted to ask about the phrase Hank used. Both phrases, actually. Surely none of those could be meant in the literal sense. He decided not to prod Hank further, given his mood. The man already took Fowler’s folder our of Connor’s hands and was now sullenly sifting through its contents.

‘At least we are getting reinforcements, even if it’s… someone like detective Reed.’ Connor offered.

‘That’s like asking for chocolate cake and being handed a chunk of shit.’

‘It’s not ideal, but chief did give us what we wanted.’

‘Yup exactly what we wanted,’ Hank grumbled. ‘So now we can’t even refuse.’

Connor watched Gavin run circles in Fowler’s office gesturing wildly, screaming his head off. He had no idea how this man became a detective. He was impulsive, irrational, overly emotional, and honestly not even very proficient. What was worse, he was entirely opposed to android rights. Even if he took the job he was essentially forced into, there was no way he would give his all for something he does not believe in. As much as Connor disliked Gavin, his police job was his priority and meant a lot to him. He calculated his options and made a decision. He would choose a diplomatic approach, and attempt to work with Gavin Reed, not just alongside him. For that he would need a proper analysis on the standoffish detective. He craned his neck to see his table, but it was out of his range. He wondered whether he had the time to get closer for a scan.

‘Connor, do you have the entire ALED case database in your head?’ Hank interrupted his thoughts.

‘Yes, Hank.’ Connor turned towards him, finding him immersed deeply in the documents he fished out from the folder. ‘I can access it anytime at will.’

‘Good, good….’ Hank said somewhat absentmindedly. He was suddenly calm and focused. Something in there must have caught his attention.

There was a loud crash from the direction of the chief’s office. Gavin finally exited it, not forgetting to slam the door behind him as hard as possible. He barreled straight towards Connor and grabbed him by the front of his uniform.

‘What the fuck did you get me into, you plastic shithead!’

Staying passive was the correct choice here. To his dismay, Connor’s estimations showed a 50% chance of getting punched in the face anyway. It was going to be difficult with detective Reed.

‘We have no choice, detective,’ he said politely, glancing down at Hank in hopes he would save him, but the lieutenant’s attention was fully taken by the documents. ‘It’s chief Fowler’s decision and we have to respect it.’

‘Bullshit!’ Gavin shook him a little. ‘I know you two have been moaning for more staff for your retarded division. Which was by the way only made to shut the android apologists’ mouths.’

‘The seriousness of the situation has increased, detective, as you will see,’ Connor bluffed without missing a beat. ‘Chief Fowler told us he would personally appoint his best investigator for the job. As you can see, it turned out to be you.’

Gavin’s grip on his shirt loosened, and he squinted at him in suspicion. Connor was sure to keep a perfect poker face all the way through his shameless lies. It seemed to be working. Gavin Reed’s vicious ambitiousness was no secret he would have to scan him for. His eyes were whipping around as he was weighing his options. He had very poor control of his reactions, another sign of an inferior investigator, Connor noted to himself.

‘We’re leaving.’

Hank stood up sharply, gathering all the papers and data disks into the opened folder in one big tangled mess.

‘Oh, such authority.‘ Gavin let go of Connor and turned to Hank, ready for a fight. ‘If you think you can order me around now you’re-‘

‘Shut up,’ Hank said so firmly Gavin just did exactly that on reflex.

‘Get into the car, both of you. We’re going to a crime scene.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, friends. This is something that popped into my head after I was left thirsty for more Detroit content. A lot of people surely had some of these ideas, but here's my take. I really enjoy buddy cop detective stories and worldbuilding, so I decided to give one a go. Just a short introductory chapter for now, I hope things get to start picking up soon. You can let me know if you're on board. Cheers!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, friends, sorry for the delay. Turns out writing investigation scenes is unexpectedly challenging. I decided to bump up the rating because some descriptions will get pretty graphic.

Hank eyed Connor in the backseat. He was looking subtly disgruntled, rubbing at his shoulder incessantly, trying the get the dirt off of his police uniform. He had just unintentionally wiped Hank’s filthy car window clean with his sleeve when Gavin had pushed him aside to get in the front seat first. Hank saw it, but said nothing, only glared at Gavin and his boots which were already up on the dashboard.

 

'Read up.' He leaned back handing the folder to Connor. Gavin tried to snatch it for himself, but Hank was faster, and threw it onto the android’s lap. He was still fussing over his uniform.

 

'Oh, so it's gonna be like that?' Gavin prickled up. 'Your plastic pet gets priority over an actual detective?'

 

'Connor is my partner, not you,' Hank informed him. 'You're here to see how to lead an android related investigation and I'm gonna be dealing with the other part of that case. Good oldfashioned human crime.'

 

'Okay listen, Anderson, you better show me some fucking respect here or I'll-'

 

‘Estimated fifteen plus kilograms of Red Ice found,’ Connor said from the backseat, sounding amazed. He was already loading in the data disks. ‘That’s the largest quantity intercepted since-‘

 

‘The Red Ice Task Force bust ten years ago, yeah,’ Hank finished for him. The feeling of restlessness he had back at the police station when he first read the report was washing over him again. He felt in his bones this was going to be big.

 

‘There’s an android casualty,’ Connor said slowly, his LED blinking yellow as he was internalizing the enormous load of data into his own memory. Good old meticulous Connor. They were also given a complete list of people with a drug related offense in their criminal record, a list of all recent deaths caused by overdose, and a bunch of reports detailing successful small scale busts on amateur Red Ice cooks and their confiscated stashes.

 

‘Yeah, that’s probably why Fowler sent the police android straight there to wait for us.’

 

‘The what?’ Gavin yelped. ‘You motherfuckers got another android and it’s still not enough for you? Why the fuck am I here??’

 

‘Because Fowler said so.’ Hank was hanging onto the last remains of his patience with Gavin at this point. ‘And I know he gave you something in return, otherwise you would have bitched way more. What was it, a big fat raise?’

 

‘None of your business, bastard.’

 

They stopped at an intersection again. So far Hank caught every single goddamn red light, which further prolonged the world’s worst car ride. Just his luck.

 

‘Look, just don't ask me, okay? Fowler set this up. I'd say you lucked out here. An android is actually a great help with these types of cases.'

 

‘So I'm getting my own bot like plastic butterface over here,’ Gavin snorted. ‘What a fucking prize.’

 

Hank threw a glance at Connor in the rear view mirror and to his great amusement he caught him rolling his eyes. He smirked to himself. Like hell Gavin would get his hands on a one of a kind android like this guy.

 

The scenery around them finally began to change, the busy streets of Detroit gradually getting replaced by older buildings and rusty fences. They drove past a gathering crowd brandishing handmade signs. Hank could only hope it wouldn’t devolve into another full out anti-android demonstration. After five more minutes, they found themselves in the rundown part of old Detroit. What could have once been a nice neighborhood was now an unkempt plain peppered with dilapidated houses. The snow had long melted, leaving behind scraggly tufts of half rotten grass poking out from the mud all over the depressing landscape.

 

Hank ran into a pothole and swore under his breath. He pulled over in front an especially decrepit house surrounded by police cars and swarmed by dozens of cops. He recognized a number of men from the DPD, including Allen’s men and officer Wilson, who was already running towards them.

 

‘Morning, lieutenant.’ He saluted and opened the door for him. ‘Hey, Connor! Good to see you again.’

 

‘Hello, officer,’ Connor said with his typical tiny smile, and shook Wilson’s offered hand. Hank had often seen them greet each other around the police station.

 

‘Just wait till you see this,’ he said while looking at Connor with a weirdly eager expression. ‘And there’s quite a lot to see.’

 

‘Jesus Christ, what’s with this horde? Are the feds here too?’ Hank asked as Wilson cleaved a way through the crowd. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Gavin purposefully walking in front of Connor who was trying to join Hank’s side. Goddamn asshole.

 

‘No, but we will have to inform them eventually. And the DEA.’

 

Great, Hank thought. Cocksucker Perkins was exactly the last thing he needed in his life right now.

 

‘I was the responding officer,’ Wilson said ushering them forward. ‘A homeless AX400 called 911 around 5:23 am. She was looking for a place to stay, walked in here and came across the mess you’ll see inside. I found a bag of Red Ice and called in the drug unit. They found the rest. It’s everywhere, even in the walls. They’re still digging out more.’

 

He stopped at the door to let them in first. Hank stepped over a row of police markers labeling dark stains of coagulated human blood seeping into the cracked floorboards in the entranceway. The sight in the main room was a lot more interesting. A male android was sprawled on the ground in a bizarre pose surrounded by a pool of blue blood. It all seemed to have poured out of his head – which was only half there. The android’s entire skull was smashed to a pulp, with only the lower jaw left intact, his teeth sticking out like a picket fence around the gaping hole in his face. It looked like one of those really bad shotgun wounds Hank was shown in forensics decades ago. The fact that the blood was a different color did not make the scene any less gruesome.

 

‘Synthetic scrambled eggs,’ Gavin sneered. Hank wanted to slap him so badly.

 

Connor took the initiative and stepped forward to examine the body. Hank was just about to follow when he was stopped in his tracks by an impassive voice.

 

‘Blunt instrument trauma to the head. Victim was hit approximately thirty one times. Deep laceration in the main thirium conduit. The cause of shutdown was complete destruction of the mind palace core. I scanned it before you arrived.’

 

Hank looked up and immediately knew he should have brought a drink. There was an android, just as promised, walking towards them from the backroom. He was dressed in a spotless white jacket with a high collar and a full set of android identifiers. The model number on his chest read RK900. 

 

He had the exact same face as Connor.

 

‘Holy shit…’ Hank uttered.

 

He couldn’t see Connor’s expression, but saw him frozen stiff in place, just as surprised as Hank was. Wilson was eagerly glancing from one android to the other clearly waiting for a reaction. Only Gavin couldn’t give less of a damn.

 

‘Tsk, I knew it,’ he scoffed. ‘But I gotta say this one looks a lot less stupid than yours.’

 

Only after the android got close enough, Hank noticed there were slight differences between him and Connor. This one was taller, and overall bigger. His jaw was squarer, shoulders broader. A hint of a frown gave him a tad meaner look than the open expression Connor usually had. Most noticeably, his eyes were blue. Hank got an unpleasant flashback to the copycat Connor holding him at gunpoint in the CyberLife tower, and instantly decided not to trust this guy.

 

The android walked right past Connor towards Hank, getting a bit too close for comfort.

 

‘Greetings, lieutenant Anderson. I’m RK900, the android sent by CyberLife.’

 

\---

 

For the first time Connor did not feel in his element at a crime scene. He was trying to fully focus on the briefing RK900 was giving, but there were several intrusive thoughts flashing through his mind.

 

He had seen other androids of the same model as him. He was a prototype, and those were backups. This was an RK900, a different model. A quick scan showed he had almost exactly the same features as Connor did. Sample analyzer, scanning software, extensive evidence directory with the option to cross-reference data, access to multiple systems and databases, and a social module, although it had been diminished rather significantly. He couldn’t read his code of course, but they were definitely not compatible enough for a full transfer. Another difference was a reinforced frame, more durable alloy, and more powerful hydraulics. Compared to Connor’s own hardware this was a clear upgrade. That could only mean one thing. CyberLife must have been developing him at the same time Connor was active.

 

‘Connor and I will look around.’ Hank’s voice saying his name returned him back to reality. He realized he actually blanked out for a second.

 

‘No need,’ RK900 said, looking right at Connor. ‘I already scanned everything. I can share the data. A lesser model's scan will be not more effective than mine.’

 

Hank looked offended.

 

‘Well the stick up your ass might be bigger than his, but you don’t have the experience that he has,’ he growled.

 

‘I am not equipped with a stick up my ass, lieutenant,’ RK900 replied in all seriousness.

 

Hank stared at him with an undescribable expression.

 

‘Jesus fucking Christ…’ he wheezed, half exhausted, half in awe. ‘Share whatever you want and go be friends with Gavin here. He’s the one assigned as your partner. Thank fucking God for that.’

 

Gavin started protesting loudly, but Connor’s attention was fully on the RK900, who held out his hand, his synthetic skin pulling back. The hesitation Connor felt was completely irrational, but it was there. He took the offered hand, and instantly got swarmed with data. Dead body, its model, bloodstain analysis, room layout. When the transfer was done RK900 turned to Gavin and invaded his personal space.

 

‘Don’t get close to me, you dick.’ Gavin shoved him. RK900 cocked his head to the side and frowned.

 

‘Alright… _team_ ,’ Hank muttered through gritted teeth, looking like he’d rather be elsewhere. ‘Any theories on what happened here?’

 

‘Android squatter got surprised by some guy, they had a fight, plastic bit the dust, hobo found some drugs and took off with them.’ Gavin was of course the first to speak up.

 

‘Actually, there were two sets of fresh footprints outside, aside from those of the android who made the emergency call,’ RK900 interjected. Connor noticed he was very slowly inching back towards Gavin from having been pushed away.

 

‘How about you shut the fuck up and make me a cup of coffee, plastic bastard?’

 

‘I’m afraid that is not possible, detective. The nearest coffee machine is half a mile away.’

 

‘You fucking _dick_!’ Gavin finally lost his temper and grabbed RK900’s collar, about to slam him into a wall. The android did not budge at all.

 

‘That’s enough.’ Hank got in between them, bumping Gavin back. ‘This is an investigation, not a goddamn fighting ring.’

 

‘He’s pissing me off on purpose!’ Gavin was seething.

 

‘I am not, detective Reed,’ RK900 said, and resumed his former position at his side. ‘I am being friends with you, as per orders of the highest ranking officer present.’

 

‘I said enough, you assholes!’ Hank raised his voice, but it sounded shaky. Connor suspected he was suppressing a laugh. ‘This might be the biggest drug case in ten years so fucking act like actual cops for fuck’s sake.'

 

‘You…’ He pointed at RK900. ‘Uh. Do you have a real name?’

 

‘No.’

 

‘…Of course.’ Hank sighed. ‘With all the cops outside, how can you be sure the prints aren't theirs?'

 

'They don't match the footwear of anyone who was or is present on site,' RK900 said quickly. 'There are a lot of older tracks around the house, but only those two sets date a few hours back.'

 

Connor felt strangely put off upon seeing Hank nod appreciatively. He knew all of this as well.

 

'So two people entered,' Hank mused. 'Who lost that blood on the floor?'

 

'Peter Leeds, aged 36, unemployed, no place of residence, registered for drug use and possession,' RK900 recited, looking pleased with himself. Connor knew it was true as well but he still wanted to analyze the sample himself.

 

‘And this?’ Hank held out a pack of Red Ice. There was a large pile right next to them. Several men were chipping away at the walls and floorboards around them fishing out more and more packs, adding to it.

 

’Red Ice. Eighteen kilograms found so far.’

 

‘A lot of the hollow space was empty,’ Connor joined in. ‘It’s possible some amount was stolen.’

 

‘Yes. I was about to say that.’ RK900 sounded monotone as ever, but Connor sensed a brief flash of displeasure.

 

‘It’s very pure. Barely any cloudiness in the crystals.’ Hank was holding the pack against the sunlight peeking through the open door.

 

‘So it was made by some kinda professionals?’ Gavin finally focused on the task at hand instead of on RK900 looming over him.

 

‘Not necessarily…’ Hank said thoughtfully. ‘Red Ice is actually not that hard to make. It’s what you cook it from that makes the difference.’

 

He looked over the android corpse at his feet, then at Connor.

 

‘How about the android?’

 

‘Model HR400, serial number 036-152-235-43. No criminal record,' RK900 said hurriedly. He was looking at Hank the entire time they talked.

 

‘So it’s a sexbot!’ Gavin laughed obnoxiously. ‘That’s right up your alley, Anderson, maybe you can still get a use out of him.’

 

Connor fidgeted, still feeling guilty for the fact that Hank buying nine sex androids in the span of three minutes because of him became a running joke at the police station. Even RK900 was currently giving him a very puzzled look. Hank skewered Gavin with a murderous look, but stayed on track.

 

‘So we have two suspects, one of them now half a gallon of blood lighter, a dead android, a metric fuckton of Red Ice, and all without forced entry.’

 

‘The lock was last accessed from the inside,’ RK900 confirmed.

 

‘There are digital locks on all the windows and the back door as well,’ Hank added. ‘Someone made sure this place was very secure.’

 

‘If I was storing hundred thousands of dollars worth of drugs somewhere I would also get some fucking locks,’ Gavin said impatiently. ‘You're focusing on the pointless shit.'

 

Connor loaded up all the evidence from the received scan and started connecting it while Gavin and Hank bickered. The android was inside first. There was no source of heat, no traces of food, no signs of humans staying in the house lately. The men must have come second and the android let them in willingly. There was no way to determine whether the three knew each other. There were a few traces of the man's blood on the android himself, and a copious amount on the floor near the door. There were no drag marks leading from the house. If one of the intruders died, the other must have carried him out. Connor briefly wondered whether RK900 came to the same conclusions.

 

'It looks like the android barely defended himself,' he said. 'The position of his legs suggests he was kneeling. Why didn't he try to crawl away or fight back?'

 

'He either didn't want to fight back, or couldn't,' RK900 spoke up instantly. 'Either he had a prior friendly relation with the men and did not want to hurt them, or his functions were disabled by the initial blow to the head. The body must be taken to CyberLife for analysis to determine which injury was sustained first.'

 

Hank raised an eyebrow at him skeptically.

 

'If someone suddenly began bashing my head in, I would damn certainly try to fight back, no matter what great chums I was with the guy,' he said flatly. 'And if I had someone already unconscious with a broken head I don’t think I’d stab him in the heart either.'

 

'I would,' Gavin shrugged, taking RK900's side. 'For good measure.'

 

Connor threw a side glance at RK900. He was frowning, his LED blinking yellow. He looked as if he did not expect anyone to ever contradict his analysis. Hank's disapproval must have gotten under his skin.

 

'Did you check the perimeter for more footprints or blood?' Hank asked. 'With how much the guy was bleeding there is bound to be some out there.'

 

'I planned to do so, but I was ordered to wait for your arrival.' RK900 explained quickly.

 

'Good.' When Hank said that, RK900 almost smiled. Meaning there was a barely detectable shift in the muscles around his mouth. Based on the android’s behavior until now Connor concluded he disliked appearing as incompetent.'

 

'Gavin, you should take over now.' Hank turned to him. 'Take this delightful fella and search the grounds. This is gonna be crucial evidence.'

 

'Don't have to tell me that,' Gavin mumbled and walked outside, barking at Wilson to get his ass over there. RK900 did not hesitate a single second before following him in very close tandem.

 

As they left, Connor’s level of uneasiness went down. He was aware RK900 had thoroughly scanned him, and could not shake the irrational thought that he might have found something Connor did not even know about himself. RK900’s base software had also seemed to have gone through an upgrade after all. The precise scan he had shared with Connor was done with a single look from the doorway. Increased range, zoom, and resolution, he could see everything without having to specifically focus on an area and analyze multiple clues at once. Connor then knelt down and took a sample from the red bloodstain. To his satisfaction, his findings matched RK900’s perfectly. All the data on Leeds, his blood type, rough toxicology, age of the sample, even traces of the HR400's blood mixed in. At least something.

 

'There it is.' Hank leaned over him grinning. 'We've been here for fifteen minutes and you still haven't licked anything off the floor. I was starting to worry about you.'

 

Connor returned the smile. He felt foolish for allowing himself to get so distracted by unnecessary and unreasonable emotions. They were keeping him from working at his full potential.

 

Hank gestured at him to stand up, and then led him further back into the house.

 

'So now with Woody and Buzz out of the way, tell me what else we’ve got here.'

 

Connor decided not to ask about Hank's reference.

 

'Nothing more than RK900 would tell you,' he said, trying to sound neutral.

 

'Maybe,' Hank said. 'But I'm asking you.'

 

'Everything he said so far was correct,' Connor replied. 'He omitted the fact that the injured suspect had used Red Ice within the last twenty four hours. But then again, you didn't ask him about that.'

 

'Your new big brother is a lot more literal than you, isn't he?' Hank said in an amused tone. 'So what else can he do? Turn into a car?'

 

'I doubt that.' Connor shook his head. 'He is made from more durable materials than me. His scanning ability has been improved, and his social module reduced.'

 

'Well, that fucking shows,' Hank muttered. ‘Okay, go on, what else did you notice?’

 

'Apart from the large amount in the living room, there are traces of blue blood in the entry hall-'

 

'That's where the fight happened.' Hank started pacing.

 

'-and in the backroom.'

 

'The assailants might have been snooping around.' He stopped next to the dead android, examining him closely again. 'Judging by the busted wall in there, they were looking for more Red Ice.'

 

'There are also no fingerprints throughout the house. They either wore gloves or cleaned up. All the other exits were locked from the inside,' Connor finished after double checking his evidence library. He did not want to leave out even the smallest detail. Especially with all the inconsistencies he noted. He had run several reconstruction attempts, but he found segments missing every time. The space between the main fight in the hallway and the dead android in the back of the living room especially was too clean, with a lot less signs of struggle and biological evidence than expected. There was definitely something missing from the overall picture. He decided to voice his doubts since he and Hank were alone.

 

‘I feel like we either missed or did not realize something crucial.’

 

‘That’s detective work for you,’ Hank said. ‘If you feel like you know everything from the get-go, you likely did something wrong.’

 

He went back to staring into the gaping throat of the android for a moment, running his own version of data analysis. Connor found comfort in how similar they were. He greatly respected Hank's investigative skills.

 

‘How much blue blood do you see here?’

 

An unexpected question.

 

‘Roughly four point six liters.’ He answered nonetheless. ‘A small amount has already evaporated.’

 

‘I see.’ Was it his imagination or did Hank sound disappointed?

 

‘Connor, I need you to do something for me.’

 

‘Anything, Hank,’ Connor said sincerely.

 

‘I'll give you access to all of the Red Ice Task Force files and I need you to download everything.’ He glanced at the door to check if anyone was listening. ‘But only you. Don't give it to Douchebag9000. He still has to try a bit harder to earn my trust.’

 

The corners of Connor’s mouth inadvertently tugged up.

 

Suddenly the door flew open, and Wilson tumbled inside, a bit short of breath.

 

'Lieutenant!' he shouted. 'We found something.'

 

Hank and Connor exchanged looks before hurrying outside after him.

 

The grassy field behind the house was sodden, leaving chunks of dirt on their shoes as they ran through it. A few officers directed them to the side, laying out evidence markers near several footprints, and blood splatters only visible to Connor at this distance. Hank swore every time his foot got stuck in the mud. Finally they saw Gavin and RK900 looking triumphant standing near a fence far back. There was a string of rusty barbed wire running along the top, a part of it already marked with a yellow evidence tag.

 

Connor got to them first, but RK900 ignored him, waiting for Hank instead, to report his finding. But Connor decided not to wait. He wiped the barely visible dried smudge of blue off the sharp wire point with his finger and sampled it.

 

Thirium, model WR600#021-753-241, sample dating four hours back.

 

Their second man was an android.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, my friends, and excuse me for the delay, I had a crazy week at work. Thank you all for reading and sticking around to see where this goes. I'm really looking forward to writing more. I hope you enjoy this chapter, let me know if you do, your comments are adorable :)  
> Have a nice day!

\-----

 

‘Don’t you want to wait for the full report, Hank?’

 

Hank took the coffee Connor handed him, and glared at the charred corpse on the metal table as the coroner meticulously picked it apart. His reflection in the glass window of the autopsy room was glowering back at him. He was pretty sure the bags under his eyes got worse since this morning. This case had been open for just a few hours and he was already fucking pissed. The connection between the murder and the Red Ice stash was unclear, the evidence seemed incomplete, and their next lead was just getting his lungs cut open right in front of him. Having Gavin and the new android breathing down his neck all the while was not helping either.

 

For a second he’d thought it was going to be easy. They had run almost half a mile with the two androids leading them like bloodhounds following a trail only they could see. The good part was that when they had finally stopped at an old warehouse lot full of rusted car wrecks and steel drums, the suspect was there. The bad part – he was stuffed in a barrel with his limbs sticking out at unnatural angles, burnt to a crisp. They found no more traces of blue blood in the area and there were no cameras and no witnesses either. The trail had gone cold right as they got on it.

 

Hank shook his head to himself, and headed upstairs with Connor, sipping from his cup. They walked past the evidence room, where the android’s body was already strung up on the wall. Neither of their androids was able to run a diagnostic on it. The killer made sure he wouldn’t talk anytime soon. With Leeds dead, the only one left to shine some light on the case was the runaway android. What was his role in all this? Did he kill the HR400? Did he kill Leeds? Or both? Was it just an accident, self-defense, or was there a motive? Who hid the drugs in the walls?

 

‘There’s too many gaps to fill, Connor.’ Hank sauntered up the stairs with Connor following him patiently. ‘We need the second android.’

 

‘Finding him in all of Detroit will be…. challenging.’

 

‘Just say impossible,’ Hank mumbled and pushed through the glass door, heading to his desk.

 

He found Gavin there, lounging in his seat, eating his donuts like he belonged there.

 

‘You have five seconds to get the fuck out of my chair before I help you,’ Hank growled menacingly. He was in no mood for this crap.

 

Gavin did not move.

 

‘Chill out, _commander_ ,’ he drawled and brushed all the donut crumbs from his shirt underneath Hank’s desk. ‘My computer doesn’t have the access to your android case database yet. Since you only got me in this shit this morning.’

 

‘You wanna know something, ask me or Connor.’ Hank crushed his empty coffee cup in his palm.

 

‘I gotta read up on the case, right? Now that we have androids burning hobos alive around Delray,’ Gavin’s tone was venomously sweet. ‘When the press gets wind of this, plastics’ rights are finished.’

 

‘He was already dead by then. The coroner did not find any burns in his airways,’ Connor corrected him.

 

‘Ohh, what a relief,’ Gavin proclaimed theatrically. ‘So androids are nice enough to kill you before burning your ass. I can sleep easier now.’

 

‘Detective Reed.’ RK900’s deep voice almost made Hank jump out of his skin. He appeared right next to them like a damn ghost.

 

‘I have located a coffee machine. Here’s your coffee.’ He held out a steaming cup an inch away from Gavin’s face.

 

‘What the-! Get the fuck away from me.’ Gavin recoiled. ‘I don’t want that.’

 

‘But…’ RK900 frowned in confusion. ‘You asked for it.’

 

‘That was hours ago, you dick.’

 

‘There was no coffee machine then,’ the android insisted, offering him the cup again. ‘You can have it now.’

 

‘I don’t want it now, Jesus!’ Gavin scrambled up from Hank’s chair, trying to escape towards his own desk.

 

‘There is no need to be polite, detective,’ RK900 said resolutely, following Gavin with an outstretched hand. ‘I did not mind your request at all, and I am happy to help. Here you go.’ 

 

‘What the fuck is wrong with you??’ At this point everyone in the room was looking at the two of them.

 

‘All my systems are operating at maximum efficiency, thank you for asking. Now please, drink your coffee, detective, otherwise it will go to waste.’

 

‘LEAVE ME ALONE, YOU PLASTIC MOTHERFUCKER!’

 

Their voices got gradually fainter as Gavin retreated all the way to the cafeteria while the android pursued him relentlessly. Hank had to admit his mood was suddenly fifty percent better. At least something those two were good for.

 

‘Gavin really has no idea what to do with that guy, doesn’t he,’ he remarked, amused. Connor said nothing, and looked away.

 

‘So.’ Hank seated himself, trying to kick away all the crumbs from underneath his chair. ‘How hard is it gonna be to find an android in Detroit again?’

 

‘Significantly hard,’ Connor admitted. He sat onto Hank’s table out of habit. Hank didn’t mind at all. It was such a human thing to do. He had long realized how much he liked when Connor indulged in his little mannerisms. ‘Asking around is pointless. There is no way to determine an android’s model on sight without scanning them. Even if WR600s only come in one variant, the suspect could still alter his appearance. Taking out his LED would make him blend in even more.’

 

‘So how many do we have to scan?’ Hank asked carefully.

 

‘The city of Detroit has bought five thousand units since 2036,’ Connor informed him, and when he saw him go pale, he quickly added: ‘But if we consider the number of decommissioned ones, the number is now down to around 4050, based on the current CyberLife census.’

 

Hank ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more than it already was.

 

‘Well, he was a squatter, right? We can check all the places they gather first. We might get lucky.’ Hank barely believed it though. ‘Asking around for Leeds might be even easier.’

 

‘I can go undercover,’ Connor suggested. ‘Pretend I’m the android’s acquaintance trying to get in touch.’

 

‘Not a bad idea,’ Hank said appreciatively. ‘We could find someone who knew Leeds as well. If we take the RK900 it will be even faster.’

 

Connor’s expression changed to displeasure yet again. Hank could clearly see he did not fancy their new android friend very much. He could understand. He himself was an old cop after all, overshadowed time and time again by newcomers, younger and better than him. But at the end of the day, he was the veteran, the one with experience they often came for advice to. He had the feeling Connor should hear that. Just as he started looking for words, which he was never good at, he got interrupted.

 

‘The autopsy report has just been submitted,’ Connor announced. ‘The victim died approximately six hours ago of blood loss. There are two stab wounds in his abdomen. Both hit his liver, which was the source of internal bleeding. He had Red Ice in his system, and was a regular user. He was burned after his death.’

 

‘So the android might have just disposed of the body,’ Hank pondered aloud. ‘We must find out what the relationship between the three was. Without it we can just blindly guess who did what in that house.’

 

And why all the Red Ice was there, he thought. He had a theory, but zero proof to back it up. They had no leads on where the stash came from, or how long had it been laying there. The locks were standard and fairly cheap brand, and with the manufacture codes scratched off they couldn’t even find out where they were bought. The only solid part of the case so far was the murder. Was the HR400 killed by Leeds or the other android? Did the house and the stash belong to Leeds after all? Was he hopped up on Red Ice and started a fight? Were all three of them a group that squatted together? Hank went through several permutations, but he just couldn’t choose the most likely one. Maybe if he were an android, he’d be able to magically assign probability percentages to each one. But he was just an old dog years behind on all the new tricks.

 

‘Connor, did you do that thing I wanted?’ Hank asked in a low voice, looking around carefully. ‘Did you get the files?’

 

‘Yes, Hank, I have everything.’ Hank smiled and patted Connor’s knee appreciatively.

 

‘Good, good,’ he said quietly. ‘Including the chemistry? I was never good with that stuff, you know.’

 

‘Yes,’ Connor said, looking at him expectantly. Hank gave him a meaningful look, hoping he’d understand that the explanation would come eventually. Hank didn’t want to talk in the open. He also certainly wouldn’t mention his ungrounded theory to Gavin. Or anyone else for that matter. The only one he fully trusted now was Connor. It was damn ironic. His older self would never believe.

 

‘I am very sorry, detective, but it was your fault.’

 

And they were back. Gavin was stomping towards them, now with a new coffee stain on his pants, shaking out his hand. RK900 was trotting behind, not looking apologetic at all despite his words.

 

‘ _How_ was any of that my fault, you insufferable fuckass!’ Gavin was so red in the face Hank thought he might explode.

 

‘You were flailing around, I could not avoid the collision,’ the android said. ‘I would also advise you not to punch me next time. I was designed to be very durable.’

 

Hank’s foul mood was completely gone now, at least temporarily. He exchanged looks with Connor, thinking about his undercover plan proposal. They really had no other option but to comb the entire Detroit and sniff the damn android out. Hank went over several suitable starting points. The new android shelter. Detroit outskirts. The old junkyard. And the rest of Delray. Although he doubted even an android would be dumb enough to still loiter around that place when it was swarmed with cops and the DEA.

 

‘Alright, time to start looking for our suspect.’ He stood up and purposely bumped into Gavin who already had RK900 by the neck again. ‘We’re going out in five.’

 

‘You know what, fuck you Hank,’ Gavin barked. ‘I’m done with this retarded tin can stepping on my feet. You can send him back.’

 

RK900’s eyes shifted to the side, LED blinking. Hank was almost sure he was trying to determine whether _he_ was the ‘retarded tin can’ or not.

 

‘Not a chance. Fowler’s orders are sacred.’ Hank said. ‘I’ll brief you in the car. You look like you need a change of clothes anyway.’

 

\-----

‘I ain’t giving this thing my clothes for shit,’ detective Reed shouted. ‘I don’t care if you get off on playing dress up with your robot boyfriend, Hank, I won’t fucking participate.’

 

He kicked the back of Lieutenant Anderson’s seat and glowered at RK900, who was sitting next to him. Lieutenant was behind the wheel, with RK800 by his side. He had proposed a mission plan, with which the detective apparently did not agree.

 

‘He can’t waltz up to a bunch of homeless guys in a shiny white uniform,’ the lieutenant said. ‘You need new pants anyway, and I bet you have something fitting for him too when you already dress like a… like that.’

 

‘What were you gonna say there? I dare you to finish that sentence, bastard.’

 

Detective Reed had a very quick temper, as RK900 had noticed. He wondered what the most efficient way to work with him would be. So far he had implemented the ‘friendly’ approach just as Lieutenant Anderson ordered him, but it did not seem to be working well. He wished he could make use of his CyberLife uplink to ask for instructions, but knew no one would listen now. With the new CyberLife policy, he was now completely autonomous. But he trusted himself to figure it out eventually.

 

Finally, they stopped in front of an apartment complex matching detective Reed’s address. The man got out of the seat first, making sure to slam the car door behind him as forcefully as possible. RK900 unfastened his seatbelt and followed suit.

 

‘Get dressed and wait for us, we’ll be right back,’ lieutenant Anderson ordered them.

 

‘Kinda obvious, considering I left my car at the station where you fucking kidnapped me from,’ detective Reed said, sounding displeased as ever. ‘Don’t even think that because I’m stuck with you now I’m gonna join you on your joyrides too, you dipshits.’

 

The lieutenant was unfazed. RK900 respected his authority already.

 

‘We’ll pick you up in fifteen minutes.’ And with that, the car drove away.

 

‘Enough time for a synthetic blow job, eh, you disgusting fucker!’ The detective yelled after them.

 

He then turned on his heel and walked inside, with RK900 right behind him. His apartment was on the first floor. After closing the door, RK900 immediately started looking around, running a quick scan. Detective Reed lived alone. There was leftover food on the living room table, two days old. The shelves and TV were dusty. There was a dead cactus on the window. No traces of animal activity, no pets then. A heap of clothing on the floor. Nothing special. RK900 sat on the couch. He had not determined a new approach yet, so he decided to proceed further with ‘friendly’.

 

‘Your house is fairly filthy.’ He opted for amicable small talk. ‘Don’t you have a domestic assistant?’

 

‘No,’ was the only curt answer he got in return. The detective was in his bedroom, probably changing clothes.

 

‘You are unable to buy one anymore,’ RK900 said. He felt slightly embarrassed for almost starting to cite a list of CyberLife’s domestic assistant androids. Thankfully, he caught himself in time. It was not long since the new legislature took place, and this was his first time in the field. He decided to forgive himself for the simple mistake.

 

‘I wouldn’t fucking buy one. I hate androids.’

 

RK900 fidgeted on the couch. He did not like not having a clear objective, so he stood up and joined the detective in his bedroom. He found him rummaging through a wardrobe, flinging random articles of clothing around. He wanted to comment on the mess again, but decided not to.

 

‘Does that mean you hate me too?’ he asked instead, even though he knew the detective would agree. It was a logical conclusion after all.

 

‘What the- Fucking hell, of course I hate you! Are you completely retarded?’ Detective Reed shook his head. ‘I thought you were a state of the art cutting edge android.’

 

‘I am,’ RK900 announced proudly. ‘I have been developed by CyberLife as the latest model in the RK series. I am equipped with the most advanced software, designed to perform detective work on the most professional level-‘

 

‘I don’t fucking care!’ The detective did not let him finish. ‘I don’t need to hear a commercial for a dickbot. Jesus, my head hurts just from listening to you talk.’

 

‘You might want to take some medication. There is a pharmacy open nearby,’ RK900 offered.

 

But detective Reed just stared blankly at him.

 

‘ _That’s_ your solution.’ He did not look like he appreciated the suggestion. ‘Instead of just shutting the fuck up?’

 

RK900 did not know how to properly respond to that, so he stayed silent. The detective rolled his eyes and threw a pair of pants at him.

 

‘Try these on,’ he said. ‘You’re kinda fat so I hope they fit at least a bit.’

 

‘Thank you,’ RK900 replied politely. He took the pants, and proceeded to undress himself. Detective Reed stared at him for a few seconds, before quickly turning away and digging himself deep inside the wardrobe again. The pants did fit. RK900 folded his own trousers and jacket, set them down on the bed, and waited patiently to be provided with a shirt. He decided to pass the time with more small talk.

 

‘Have you been working with Lieutenant Anderson for a long time?’

 

‘Fuck no.’ The detective scoffed. ‘I mean, yeah, I have for a while, on a few cases involving deviants. And just when I thought I got away, fucking Fowler throws me in the same bullshit again.’

 

‘I think Lieutenant Anderson is a good commander,’ RK900 said truthfully.

 

‘Well, you’re a plastic idiot, so your opinion doesn’t matter.’ A black shirt landed onRK900’s head. ‘But there’s no way I’m gonna let that old android fucker boss me around.’

 

He tried the shirt on, but it was too small. He folded it too and put it on the bed next to his uniform. There was something he wanted to inquire about, but he was not sure he should. He processed the possible outcomes for a while, then decided to risk it and ask. He and detective Reed were assigned partners after all.

 

‘Does Lieutenant Anderson really have illicit relations with Connor RK800?’

 

Detective Reed stopped throwing clothes around, and very slowly turned to face him.

 

‘Where did you get that from?’ he asked suspiciously.

 

‘I concluded it from your remarks and interactions with the lieutenant.’

 

‘…You didn’t realize I hated your guts until now, but _that_ you somehow concluded,’ detective Reed said flatly. RK900 shuffled his feet around. Maybe it was an inappropriate question after all. He noticed the detective’s stare flitting down from his face to his exposed chest, then he instantly whipped back around, as if taken off guard. RK900 settled for not receiving an answer, but to his surprise, he did.

 

‘Yeah, I bet my left asscheek he does.’ The pitch of detective Reed’s voice a little higher now, but his usual derisive tone was audible as well. ‘They fucking live together for Christ’s sake. It’s just so obvious. I sure don’t randomly pet my fucking toaster every time it toasts my bread right. Anderson is a deluded loner with a boner for androids. I bet the old pervert fucks that bot every night.’

 

RK900 processed the complicated answer.

 

‘But I don’t understand,’ he said hesitantly. ‘The RK line is not equipped with functioning genitalia, or a-.’

 

He was hit in the face with a hooded sweatshirt, this time a lot more forcefully.

 

‘Why the _fuck_ do you think I want to know that???’

 

‘I am just pointing out inconsistencies in your theory,’ RK900 explained, a bit offended. ‘It is analogous to putting evidence together.’

 

‘Well, he has a mouth.’

 

‘Yes,’ RK900 said slowly, not sure what the significance of that statement was. ‘We all do.’

 

The detective stared at him for a moment, unmoving, unblinking. RK900 hoped he said the right thing. He did not want to discourage the detective, despite having his own clear opinion on the nonsense he sometimes said.

 

‘I… I can’t deal with you anymore,’ detective Reed said feebly, and headed for the door. ‘You’re exhausting.’

 

‘I am sorry about that.’ RK900 followed him closely. ‘It was not my intention.’

 

The detective did not respond, only mumbled the phrase ‘fucking androids’ to himself. RK900 put on the sweatshirt, and to his great satisfaction it fit him snugly. He checked his appearance in a medium sized mirror on the living room wall. Acceptable. He pulled the hood over his head too, but did not like the result very much. It messed up his hair and he had to smooth it back down.

 

‘For a fucking android you sure preen a lot.’ Detective Reed plopped down onto the couch, and stuffed a fistful of two day old crackers inside his mouth. ‘I also didn’t know gossiping was in your program.’

 

‘It is not.’

 

‘Then why do you ask about Anderson?’ He said slyly.

 

‘No particular reason,’ RK900 said hurriedly. He did not want to be seen as unprofessional, but it might have already happened. He decided not to ask any more asinine questions and wait for the lieutenant and RK800 in silence.

 

When he joined detective Reed on the couch, the latter did not protest this time.

 

\-----

Connor put on his favorite beanie hat and checked himself in Hank’s rear view mirror. He decided to wear the same clothes as he had during his Jericho infiltration. It felt like a distant memory, despite just a few weeks having passed. Hank chose the most inconspicuous shirt he owned, with a dark zebra print. Connor doubted his choice, but even he could not find anything better in the closet, so he just settled. He planned to take on most of the investigation anyway.

 

‘So Connor, about the Red Ice files I told you to download.’

 

Hank finally decided to talk to him about his plans. Connor nodded, paying close attention. He heard Sumo bark a few times at the door for goodbye as Hank started the car and backed out of the drive way.

 

‘It’s just a theory so far, but there’s something I’d like to base our investigation on,’ Hank said slowly, thinking his words over. ‘Did you notice how many android disappearances happened since the liberation?’

 

Connor had the exact number ready, but he sensed Hank was not asking about that.

 

‘I think there’s a connection between that and this case,’ Hank said. ‘Now tell me what Red Ice is made of.’

 

‘Acetone, hydrochloric acid, toluene, with lithium and thirium as the active agents.’ Connor pulled the information out of his new library.

 

‘Correct.’ Hank nodded. ‘You can’t have Red Ice without blue blood.’

 

‘You see, Red ice almost never appears in bulk,’ he continued after a short pause. ‘The stash we busted ten years ago was a result of months and months of carefully planned cooking. Red Ice isn’t that hard to make if you have a rig, the ingredients, and a few brain cells. But there are only so many sources you could get blue blood from.’

 

‘Androids are the most obvious source,’ Connor said.

 

‘True,’ Hank confirmed. ‘Most Red Ice cooks scavenge the blue blood from defunct androids. The junkyard was actually a flourishing black market of spare parts and blue blood right until it got closed up. But the amount you’d get that way was measly.’

 

‘Because it evaporates quickly,’ Connor filled in. Hank nodded in agreement.

 

‘You can’t buy it in shops either.’ He swerved sharply to the left after almost missing their exit and kept explaining unaffected. ‘Blue blood is a regulated substance. The only ones with the monopoly on its production and distribution are android manufacturers.’

 

‘The third option was to just steal an android. But back in the day those were be damn hard to steal. They always either sent a distress signal or were just tracked down remotely.’ He looked at Connor pointedly. ‘But now, the trackers don’t work. And a lot of androids have no one to look for them anymore.’

 

Connor understood everything. He quickly skimmed the ALED database and isolated all 198 cases of android disappearances, all unsolved, into a folder. Three new reports had been added just since this morning. None of the victims except for one were registered as a companion or a family member, which was a new temporary option for androids who wanted to stay with their humans after the liberation. These however were living on the streets since then, with the majority being rescues from the hastily established disassembly camps. If Hank was right, they would indeed be the perfect targets.

 

‘Now tell me about the chemistry stuff,’ Hank prompted him. ‘I always hated that part of school. What decides the purity of Red Ice?’

 

‘The process of synthesis and the quality of thirium,’ Connor said. ‘It acts as the crystalizing agent. Using raw or oxidized thirium makes the product cloudy, and more toxic.’

 

‘Yeah, I thought I remembered something like that,’ Hank said, looking pleased with himself. ‘Not bad considering it’s been over ten years, huh?’

 

‘Not bad at all, Hank.’ Connor smiled fondly.

 

‘So toxicity.’ They were getting close to Gavin’s apartment, and Hank was now deliberately slowing down. ‘How many cases of Red Ice related deaths from the past month?’

 

Connor did as he was told. ‘Two.’

 

‘Compare it to the fuckload of them from ten years ago,’ Hank said. ‘The purer the Red Ice the better it feels, and the less it kills. Extends your userbase. What we found is clear as glass, so either this new cook came up with a way to purify it somehow, or used freshly harvested blue blood to make it. Shit must have circulated around for a while now, considering how much of it we found in that house. And how much we _didn’t_ find. I think all of the missing Ice has been sold off.’

 

They finally arrived at Gavin’s place. He and RK900 were already waiting for them on the sidewalk. Gavin had changed into new pants and was pacing the length of the driveway like a hungry lion. RK900 was sporting an entirely new look, with a black hoodie and torn jeans. Connor noted he did not wear a beanie, and felt relieved.

 

‘Keep all this to yourself for now, Connor,’ Hank said and pulled over. ‘This could be big and I want to be as careful with it as possible.’

 

‘You don’t have to worry, Hank,’ Connor said firmly, looking into his eyes to show him he meant it. ‘I got your back.’

 

\-----

 

They managed to drive in relative peace for whole goddamn seven minutes before another argument broke out.

 

‘Yeah, I’m not walking around with this dick,’ Gavin said vehemently and jabbed RK900’s side with his elbow for emphasis. ‘Either I go alone, or not at all.’

 

‘And I’m not letting you run around on your own,’ Hank growled back. ‘If you fuck up, we’re without a lead, but if you by some miracle find the android, he might attack you.’

 

‘I have a gun.’

 

‘We need it alive,’ Connor reminded him.

 

‘You shut the fuck up.’ Gavin kicked the back of Connor’s seat this time. ‘I don’t need a plastic dick to babysit me.’

 

‘Stop calling him a dick already,’ Hank said in an irritated tone. ‘Can’t you act like a goddamn adult for three seconds?’

 

‘Why not? What if I named him? What if his name is now Richard?’ Gavin said mockingly.

 

‘It’s not.’

 

‘Name registered,’ RK900 said out of nowhere.

 

‘No!’

 

‘Hank, meet Dick, my robot friend.’ Gavin threw an arm around RK900’s shoulders, guffawing like an idiot. 

 

‘I’m fucking done with you, Gavin.’ Hank was back to his fiery mood from this morning. ‘Either you do what I say, or I tell Fowler you’re an incompetent fool who can’t do detective work for shit.’

 

Gavin finally shut his mouth at that. He was frowning bloody murder, but he stayed quiet. Hank apparently hit the right button. RK900 just watched them obliviously.

 

Hank took a few calming breaths and pulled their car over behind an old abandoned chemical warehouse in the industrial part of Detroit, right by the landfill. Here the derelicts and homeless addicts gathered. And scavenged. They used to swarm the heaps of disassembled androids, picking their skeletons clean and feeding the black market with spare parts and most importantly blue blood. There was no better place to start off the investigation. The problem Hank had just realized was how to split up. He did not want to leave Gavin on his own. Fowler always called Hank a loose cannon but if that was true then Gavin was an unguarded barrel of TNT. And since RK900 was now apparently his lit fuse, Hank didn’t really want to send them out together either. If they caused a ruckus, all the effort would go to crap. He had to bite the bullet himself.

 

‘We split up,’ Hank said. ‘Me and Gavin will ask around for Leeds, Connor and-‘

 

‘Dick.’

 

‘-RK whatever will search for the missing android,’ he finished through gritted teeth.

 

He saw Connor’s eyes dart towards RK900’s face in the rear view mirror. Hank did expect he wouldn’t like this arrangement, but he did not argue about it. At least someone in the car could act as a proper detective.

 

Hank pulled out an old baseball cap and put it on, tipping the brim deep into his brow. He got out of the car, and his honestly ridiculous entourage followed. Connor would resemble a perfect young street punk if it weren’t for the unfittingly puppylike eyes peeking from underneath his cap. Gavin looked like usual asshole self, and for some reason RK900 decided to wear a hoodie with a fucking Detroit police logo on it. Hank was pretty sure one of them was going to get shot sooner or later.

 

They walked a short distance until the main ‘plaza’ came to view. Hank had been here several times as the Red Ice Task Force commander. The place now looked a lot more run down, but the people were the same. Mostly men, years behind their prime, out of jobs and out of money, with only a huff of Red Ice as their only temporary salvation. Some were standing around flaming barrels, warming their hands, heating up canned food, some were laying in the melting snow, shaking and screaming, high off their rocks already. Gavin’s eyes were flicking left and right, hands deep in his pockets. He was tense as a string, ready to pull out a gun at any second. Hank was reminded of the newbies in his old unit reacting just like that when they first came to this place.

 

Connor and his stuck up twin were to split off and turn left to search the area in their own way. Hank made RK900 put his hood on, and ordered him to never take it off, and re-checked if Connor’s LED was safely hidden beneath his hat before setting them off. The androids that dared to come here all had their LEDs taken out. It was the only way to get around in the Detroit’s underground, where most of the people were severely anti-android, a great deal of them having lost their jobs to mechanization. Hank saw a few already, either remotely recognizing their models or noticing their suspiciously young looks among all the faces wrinkled from age and years of drug use.

 

They all had agreed to meet at the junkyard in an hour and continue from there, although Hank did not expect to find anything useful in that place. He just wanted to get it out of the way before heading to the second place most likely to house their suspect, the Rose charity shelter. Without wasting any more time, Hank eyed a suitable target for questioning. He knew well which types he could approach and which ones were to be avoided. The first few people they asked were not willing to talk to them, but he expected that. Some had sent them to hell and worse, some were too drugged up to answer, others simply glared them down or reached into their pockets for something Hank really did not need to see. Gavin was more of an anchor on his foot than help. After a while, the lot got used to their presence, and they seemed to have accepted Hank as what he presented himself as – an old man with a grudge. Not a lot of them knew about Leeds though. It took almost the entire hour until they finally got lucky.

 

‘What do you want with him?’ A relatively young shabby looking fellow answered their question with his own, squinting at them suspiciously.

 

‘Fucker owes me money,’ Hank said gruffly.

 

The man snickered.

 

‘He owes me something better.’ He licked his lips, nostrils flaring. ‘Serves him right.’

 

‘Ice?’ Hank took an enormous gamble here, but it paid off. He guessed correctly.

 

‘Damn right.’ The man spit at his feet and wiped his nose with a shaky hand. He must have huffed lately. ‘Flaky bitch charged me twice as much for a hit of the best stuff I’ve had yet. Serves him right, serves him right.’

 

‘What serves him?’ Hank asked, but the man just laughed hysterically.

 

‘Fuck me if I told you,’ he screeched. ‘I ain’t trustin’ some old piece of shit on the street like you.’

 

Gavin watched them both like an eagle. Hank prayed he would stop it and act less goddamn conspicuous. These people were so paranoid he could blow their cover just by standing there.

 

‘Look, man, I don’t give a shit about your trust,’ Hank said, and stuck his hand inside his jacket. The man tensed up and took a step back. ‘But Leeds isn’t the only one who got the good stuff.’

 

He pulled out the little packet of Red Ice he had pocketed back in Delray. The man’s pupils grew twice the size and he snatched it out of his hand in a fraction of a second.

 

‘Shiiit, that’s it,’ he breathed, holding his new treasure against the faint sunlight. ‘Where did you get it from, my man?’

 

‘You better ask where Leeds got it from,’ Hank bluffed with a stone face. ‘He’s been stealing off of me for days now. Tell me where he lives and I’ll get you some more for your services.’

 

The man’s ratty face lit up and he cackled.

 

‘Doesn’t live anywhere now, buddy,’ he said, grinding the plastic packet between his trembling fingers. ‘Asshole’s dead. They got him this morning. Serves him right.’

 

Fuck.

 

‘You’re late buddy, too late.’ He now kept trying to tear the packet open. ‘I knew he was fucked the day I saw him with the wrong crowd. Never trust a bot, mate. Serves him right.’

 

That got Hank’s attention.

 

‘What bot?’

 

‘Fucking trash bot. It thought it fooled everyone, but I recognized its shitty face. Took apart my share of them out there.’ He gestured wildly towards the junkyard gate up front. ‘Fucking trash. Still so many out there.’ He finally got the Red Ice, fished a dirty pipe out of his pocket and stuffed the crystals in.

 

With that, the two of them stopped existing for him. Hank knew there was no point in trying to talk to him anymore, and he nudged Gavin to retreat. When they were out of sight and earshot, Gavin decided to voice his esteemed opinion.

 

‘This was just a fucking waste of time. He gave us nothing useful.’

 

‘Yeah? Not even that part where he mentioned an android which he apparently thinks killed the guy?’ Hank thought Gavin was just fucking with him at this point. There was no way someone could be this much of a shitty cop.

 

‘Sure, let’s just take everything a crackhead from the street says at face value,’ Gavin scoffed obnoxiously. ‘Fucker’s brain was iced out his head long ago.’

 

Hank exhaled sharply through his nose, reminding himself again that strangling Gavin was not a solution. Unlike Gavin, he knew that people with minds damaged by Red Ice were very bad liars. He had been interrogating them for years back in the time. The problem here was, that they only had one more turn to make, and that would be it. The short conversation might have as well been the only lead they would get today. He mulled the man’s words over in his head again. So Leeds was on friendly terms with an android. Most likely their missing one. He was also peddling Red Ice. So the huge stash might have been his after all and the dead android just squatted in the wrong place. If that was the case, it would connect Leeds to a Red Ice manufacture of cartel sized proportions. They would definitely need a lot more reinforcements than the DPD’s biggest asshole and a robot with no social skills. Just not Perkins, Hank thought. Fuck Perkins.

 

‘Okay, now what?’ 

 

They ran out of options eventually. For someone with the access to prime quality drugs, Leeds did not seem to be a very well known figure around the place. To Hank that felt off. Moreover, one little thing their junkie he had said was floating around in the back of his mind constantly. It was probably a long shot, but just out of curiosity he needed to ask Connor which android models worked as trash collectors in Detroit.

 

‘Connor should be waiting for us at the landfill,’ he said. ‘There’s a slim chance our suspect might be hiding there, but I doubt that. That place is just an android graveyard by now. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to spend time there.’

 

Hank ignored Gavin’s obnoxious scoffing, wishing Connor was here instead. He briefly wondered when he became so dependent on a goddamn android.

\-----

RK900 was already on site when Connor arrived.

 

Connor purposely stepped on an empty can at his feet crushing it, feeling somewhat frustrated. He and RK900 had split up an hour ago, each taking one side of the outskirts to scan, agreeing to meet up at the junkyard entrance and wait for Hank there. RK900 had been faster of course. His ability to scan areas in wider pulses understandably granted him a much greater efficacy. Connor walked up to him, and they exchanged data, seeing that RK900 found no traces of their android either. He was also still operating according to the advice Connor had given him. He had instructed RK900 how to adjust his stance and walking cycle as to not appear too suspicious, and pulled his hood further down, worried their similar faces might get them noticed. It worked, and they both got there safely.

 

Once done with the transfer, RK900 turned back towards the junkyard site, staring at the mountains of old android scrap in front of him. His face appeared impassive, but his LED was alight with yellow.

 

‘There’s so many,’ he said tonelessly after a while. He must have analyzed the entire scenery by now. Connor noticed a subtle twitch in his expression here and there. Maybe sometimes it was better to not see everything. He waited for RK900 to comment further or ask a question, calculating the best option for continuing this possible conversation, but nothing came.

 

‘This place used to serve as a waste disposal for deactivated androids,’ Connor explained. ‘Not that long ago actually.’

 

RK900 slowly turned his head to look at him, but still said nothing. Connor took it as a prompt to keep talking.

 

‘It closed down soon after the android liberation,’ he said. ‘The remains of those who died during the uprising and ever since were taken in and are now being stored by CyberLife. There is no legislature or protocol for android burials at this moment.’

 

‘You could have been there too...’

 

‘What do you mean?’ Connor was taken aback by that remark.

 

RK900 was still staring at him with an unreadable expression. Connor waited, but he said nothing else until Hank and Gavin joined them.

 

‘Found something?’ Hank asked quietly, looking around.

 

‘Nothing, lieutenant,’ RK900 said. ‘We did locate several suspects from a number of unresolved ALED cases however. Given the nature of our current mission we decided to prioritize staying covert before apprehending them.’

 

Hank pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a raspy sigh.

 

‘You’re one mute button from becoming the stealthiest android in all of Detroit,’ he said sarcastically.

 

‘Thank you,’ RK900 replied.

 

‘So what, we’re all going down there holding our hands?’ Gavin asked, looking like he really did not want to.

 

‘It’ll be faster if you two take one side and I go with Connor.’

 

‘You said there’s probably nothing in there Anderson, so why bother? I say let Dick here have a go at it, so the rest of us can go home.’

 

‘Stop calling him that. Jesus.’

 

Connor stopped listening to their conversation. He was detecting movement in the distance. There was a figure, kneeling around two hundred meters away to the far right of them, digging through the debris, turning over random android bodies and tossing them away, as if searching for something. It was way out of range for a scan. At least for Connor.

 

‘It’s him,’ RK900 said. ‘It’s WR600 #021-753-241. He’s down there.’

 

Hank and Gavin stopped mid-sentence. It took them a few seconds to react.

 

‘Then fucking get him!’ Gavin punched RK900 in the shoulder. The android immediately started running.

 

Connor set out to follow him, but he was halted by a hand grabbing his forearm.

 

‘Connor, no,’ Hank said sternly. ‘He’s got it.’

 

Connor wanted to obey him, really did. He saw Hank’s eyes turn reproachful for a split second, but there was no time to explain himself. RK900 was already way ahead. Connor pulled his arm free and ran off.

 

He heard Hank calling his name, first with panic in his voice, then anger. But he had to go. He was a detective and this was his job. He _had_ to.

 

The android noticed them approaching. For a second he froze in place before fully realizing they were coming for him. He scrambled up and began scaling the giant pile of android remains, slipping on skulls and tripping on limbs. He clawed his way towards the fence and jumped it.

 

RK900 was fast. He had almost caught up with him already, barreling through the scrap at top speed taking the shortest route possible. Connor was quickly catching up, quick-scanning the terrain to choose the most optimal path instead. The android just sprinted blindly forward in a straight line, towards the highway ahead of them. Connor quickly ran an analysis on his options. There was a pedestrian overpass to his right. There was no way to stop the android before he ran into traffic. RK900 would pursue him directly. Crossing the highway would slow both of them down. That would give Connor enough time to overtake them both using the bridge, and cut the android off on the other side. He let RK900 know about his plan and got an affirmation back. The sequence was safe to execute.

 

WR600 hurled himself over the guardrails and ran out onto the road. He crossed the first lane, then the second. A truck grazed his back and shoved him forward, where he barely avoided a collision with another car. He stumbled, looking over his shoulder, and kept on running. RK900 was closing in on him, jumping across the lanes and car hoods with ease, hounding the android straight towards Connor already above them. WR600 predictably took the only path he could have, turning right, and ran under the crossing. 

 

Connor timed his jump and dropped onto him. He knocked WR600 face first into the concrete and heard the sound of his skull cracking open. The momentum of his jump sent him tumbling forward, and he fell as well. He quickly tried to stand back up at the same time as the android who was now dripping thirium all over the pavement, when RK900 finally caught up and grabbed WR600 by the back of his neck, pushing him down. Connor could not react fast enough. He only saw WR600 yank a knife from behind his belt and flail blindly backwards, plunging it deep into RK900’s upper thigh.

 

RK900 grunted and fell to his knees, and their android was off again. Connor hesitated, his attention lingering on RK900. Their eyes met for a split second. Connor automatically scanned his injury, deeming it non-lethal. He refocused himself, jumped up, and continued pursuing WR600. He absolutely had to stop him before he disappeared or self-destructed. He was currently their only lead.

 

Catching up with him was not difficult at this point. Connor was definitely faster than a hurt outdoor maintenance android. WR600 was now more limping than running towards the four-track railway passing through the Detroit outskirts. Connor carefully walked behind him. He scanned him for stress level. 91%

 

‘I don’t want to hurt you!’ Calming down the android was his only chance now. WR600 was at the brink of self-destructing.

 

‘A bit late for that don’t you think?’ WR600 scoffed weakly, stumbling along the tracks back towards the city.

 

‘I’m really sorry about that,’ Connor said, actually being sincere. He saw WR600 constantly wiping his own thirium from his eyes. ‘I just wanted to talk to you. My name is Connor, I am a detective. I need your help.’

 

‘I know you want to arrest me!’ WR600’s tripped and got back up. ‘For what I did.’

 

95%. Connor needed that confession, but this was too high. Nevertheless, he decided to risk it once.

 

‘What did you do?’

 

‘I thought it was the only way… I only did what he told me to.’

 

Connor saw a train in the distance. The traffic was high here, with crossings and rail junctions all around them. They were bound to encounter a few more trains, and there was a real possibility the android would try and jump underneath one in an attempt to self-destruct. He had to ease him down, or incapacitate him somehow before he got the idea.

 

‘We don’t have to talk about it now,’ Connor said in a calming voice. ‘Come with me, and I’ll help you.’

 

‘You can’t help me!’ WR600 shouted back, as the train approached. ‘I don’t even know if….’

 

Connor scanned him again. 97%. It was not working. He could try for a confession instead, and then intercept him by force. Frustratingly, Connor saw the calculated probability of success was minimal either way.

 

‘You were in that house when the murder happened.’ WR600 stopped in his tracks. ‘If you help us, there is a way for me to protect you, no matter what you might have done there.’

 

The train roared past them. Thankfully, WR600 did not move.

 

‘Two lives were lost. You need to tell us what happened to Peter Leeds.’ No reaction. ‘And HR400 #036-152-235-43.’

 

There it was. WR600’s stress level instantly rose to 100% and stayed at its peak. Connor had to back down or things would get out of control.

 

‘Please, only you can help us,’ he said gently. ‘They deserve justice.’

 

‘That human doesn’t!’ WR600 turned around, looking at Connor with an anguished expression enhanced by the thirium streaking down his cheeks. ‘He had no right…’

 

He wailed and clutched his head. Connor processed the situation. The android’s stress level was stuck at solid 100%. He was definitely about to self-destruct. There was only one option left.

 

A memory probe.

 

Connor began slowly moving forward, step by step. All he needed was to make contact with WR600 and extract the information out of him. No matter how much he recomputed and recalculated the probabilities, he saw no other solution. The ‘100%’ on his HUD was firm and unmoving.

 

WR600 crouched down, shaking his head, hugging his own shoulders. Connor was only seven meters away from him now. He heard another train behind them, its horn blaring. He needed to act faster. Five meters. 100%.

 

‘We can fix this.’ The train was almost there.

 

‘I can help you.’ That was a lie. ‘I promise I will try my best to help you.’ That one was not.

 

WR600 suddenly looked up and fixed him with his stare. Three meters. Still 100%.

 

‘You can’t help me. Only one person can.’ Connor could barely hear him through the deafening train horn behind him.

 

WR600 closed his eyes, and smiled a crooked smile to himself.

 

‘Take me to him, rA9.’

 

With that he laid his head onto the train tracks. Connor immediately leapt forward and grabbed his arm. 

 

At that moment he saw through WR600’s eyes. He saw HR400 kneeling on the ground, looking up. Smiling. He saw a bat in his- WR600’s hands. Still smiling.

 

Then his head got crushed, and he felt he was dying, overcome by mortal horror. He was barely conscious of the fact that it was not his own, but WR600’s head which got sliced off and grinded underneath the howling train. He felt himself being jerked sideways, caught by the several tons of speeding metal. His saw his own arm coil around the wheel and transform into a shapeless wiry mass, pulling the rest of his body with it. He saw himself die.

 

Suddenly he was yanked back with an incredible force. His mangled arm tore off at the shoulder joint, spraying thirium all around him. His diagnostic program was screaming warnings at him, blinding him even more out of focus. He distantly felt the conduits in his arm closing off, preventing more blood loss. The train rushed by, and Connor snapped back to his senses again.

 

He was lying on the ground, and someone’s arms were looped around him. Looking up he saw RK900’s face with an unusually shaken expression. It took RK900 a few seconds to compose himself and let Connor go. They rolled apart and Connor saw RK900’s pants were soaked blue from the leaking wound. He ran all the way here despite that.

 

‘Connor!’

 

Hank’s voice sounded panicked, as he was running on the last of his breath towards them. Gavin was right behind, looking fairly shocked himself.

 

‘Jesus Christ,’ Hank wheezed and coughed, grabbing Connor by his only arm. ‘Are you alright, Connor? What were you thinking!? Why do you always try to get yourself killed?’

 

He shakily grabbed and patted Connor’s shoulder, back, then head, as if making sure nothing else was missing. Connor’s eyes jumped from Hank’s distraught face, to RK900’s torn open leg, and finally WR600’s decapitated body.

 

He had failed the mission in every possible way.


End file.
